On Harmony and Art "Rules"

 I realized I had to blog today. 

   And I juggled my lack of inspiration against the stack of my harmony student's work that still needs to be marked and sent back.

   And then I thought of my own journey through the harmony textbooks. 

   In Grade 9, while I was struggling to remember and follow all the rules, my Grade 9 teacher said, "Yeah, and then you get into studying music history, and you discover that all the famous composers ever did was break the rules anyways."

   That discouraged me.

   Why was I learning this stuff if it didn't matter? If no one regarded it? If the rules were only there for the exam and nothing more?

   In Grade 10, I silently carried this attitude over to my new theory teacher. She didn't reprimand it. Maybe, because I was the silent and obliging type, she didn't even notice it. Instead she took me to her piano. She made me play the wrong harmonies, the rule-breakers. Then she had me play the corrected versions.

   "Doesn't that sound so much better?" she asked. 

   And for the first time, I realized that the rules were not arbitrarily created by examiners. Following them made a difference. Following the rigid structure created beauty. Even out of boring theory exercises. 

   It also stretched my creativity. And as I applied what I was learning to my own songs, I became, not more narrow for following the rules, but more broad. Suddenly I wasn't things that sounded half-decent on the page. I was problem-solving, I was exploring, I was stretching myself and growing. 

   Then, several years passed, and I decided to get my ARCT. So I went back to the teacher who had taught me for my Grade 10 practical exam (I had a separate piano teacher and theory teacher). He was the sort who expects you to know the harmony rules, and assumes you do if you've made it this far. And so he's teaching me the Brahms, and he starts delving into it like a harmonic analysis with heart. 

   "And so you start out with this D major chord, and you expect it to resolve to a G minor chord. But no [wide-eyed, feigned surprise and accompanying gasp as he plays it], Brahms takes it to an E flat major chord. Ah! Deceptive cadence!"

   He stopped and turned himself on the bench so he was facing me.

   "See, I would have taken it to G minor. But that wasn't what Brahms wanted to create. He knew the rule, and he broke it on purpose to create this mysterious atmosphere."

   "That is how I know that Brahms was a genius."

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   There are rules that should not be broken. Like the Ten Commandments. Moral laws, and issues of conscience -- those things need to be non-negotiable for each of us as individuals. 

   But what about in art?

   If you take the attitude that the rules don't matter at all, that they're just necessary for the exam, you won't reach your full potential as an artist. They are there for a reason. And it's not a mathematical reason. Though the rules are mathematical in nature, they are artistic in purpose. 

   If you know the rules, are practiced in them and well-versed, you will know exactly how to break them in order to produce the musical message you want to convey. 

   Thus you will be a better artist.